A Trade
by Aly DragonChild
Summary: A typical early morning in Gryffindor Tower. MWPP.


-1The Gryffindor dorms should've been, at such an early hour, uncommonly peaceful and serene. There should've been only a single ray of light slipping into the dorm through a crack in the drapes, highlighting gracefully swirling dust motes. The plush crimson and gold would've been dulled but cozy and comforting. The four boys should not have yet become boys but remained as lumps in their bed, distinguished as living only by their heavy breaths and snores.

But it was not destined to be. No, not this morning. In replacement, they had a full blown out crisis. Remus didn't think it was much of a trade.

"I cannot _believe _them!" Sirius snapped, throwing the letter once more to the ground. He snorted in rage, and Remus could almost picture him scraping his foot against the floor and charging James, the brave matador.

And the sad, extremely pathetic thing was, you could blame it all on Remus. Because he had told Sirius--had been telling him for the past six years in a never ending litany--that the boy needed to share. And now Sirius was determined to share. But not just with the sixth year boys--with every single occupant of Gryffindor tower. The fact that the occupants of Gryffindor tower didn't _want _what he was sharing had never occurred to him. He was, Remus thought, probably completely sure that he was being self-sacrificing. If only he had sacrificed the angst instead.

"Sirius--"

"Oh, don't Sirius-me!" Said Sirius was reaching the full blown stage, and nothing would bring him down but the complete end. "You do _not _have to deal with the absolute arse-holes that compose my family! You don't have to deal with them day in, day--"

"You're not." Remus nearly choked when he realized it was _him _that had done the unthinkable and death worthy--he had interrupted Sirius. He was so dead.

"_What?"_ For one who was supposedly estranged from his family, he did a remarkable impression of his father at times like this.

"I-I mean. You know. You. You don't have to deal with. With your family. 'Cause you're here. At. At Hogwarts." Oh _shit._

"You - come here you bloody little - ufh - come here! You deserve - you do - !" Sirius punctuated each fragmented phrase with a wild punch at Remus' head, which was currently attempting to dive out of sight and under bed. "Come back here you pansy!"  
"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, BLEED ON ME?" The entirety of the boys dorm shouted back the classic line with gusto, with heart, with--well, it didn't really matter. They'd all be dead as soon as Sirius finished dealing with Remus. And Remus was very nearly dead, sandwiched as he was between a box of biting teacups and dung bombs, seized by hysterical laughter.

Years later, he would look back at the moment and laugh gently, sighing "Oh heavens." Currently, he was laughing in a none-so-gently manner, and sighing "Oh shit!" with something that sounded more like a yell than a sigh.

One does not take into account the impressionable minds of youth and the need to refrain from all swear-words when one is seized about the ankle by an irate Black. After all, it's not wise to laugh in the face of danger. Sadly, Remus was doing just that, punctuated with "Oh, SHIT!" every few breaths.

Slowly, slowly, Sirius Black drew him out, his eyes glistening fanatically. "I - I'm - dead! Dead - death - pain - lots of --" At every pause he yanked harder at the slim ankle which was slowly transforming into a hairy adolescent leg.

Remus was digging his hands into the floorboards, wishing for some of that supposed werewolf strength. He dug deep within himself, but the only thing he could come up with was a yell.

He found himself staring point-blank at Sirius. Death had never looked so gruesome. A fist came whizzing into contact with his face--who needs wands when they've got fists, after all?--and he could feel his nose shatter.

Dead. Dying. Death.

He had put up a worthy fight, but none could best Black. Yet despite all, the scuffle--if one enjoyed understatements--that ensued went down in Gryffindor history. One magnificent black eye, swollen shut, several broken digits, and a fractured rib latter and it ended.

But that, of course, was only due to the timely interference of one Miss Minerva McGonagal. "BOYS!" The full-bodied yell had amazing acoustics, and enough force to stop everybody in their steps.

Pinned between the floor and a really very heavy Sirius, Remus sighed. One black eye, a broken finger, and a fractured rib for a morning of peace. Not a good trade at_ all._


End file.
